There's nothing I love more than your sexy mind
by Rita C
Summary: Sansa voices her opinions, her family is not amused. It's up to Jon to put a stop to it - and he's more than happy to oblige. OR Sansa is the perfect lady. Jon is well mannered and polite. Together they should be the perfect high born couple. If only they could be a little bit more proper...


**There's nothing I love more than your sexy mind (except maybe your hot body)**

Lady Catelyn purses her lips as her eyes travel across the high table to find Sansa, who is busy entertaining herself conversing with some of the northern lords. She is perfectly courteous, her soft melodic voice drifting over the music and loud voices cluttering the hall, but even her kind tones cannot mask the barbs and japes she's throwing left and right nor the narrowed looks of her interspeakers whenever one of her caustic remarks hits a little too close to home.

It's easy to see why Lady Stark looks less than amused with her oldest daughter right now.

Lord Stark has made a feeble attempt to rise from his seat at a particularly well delivered back handed compliment but Robb's hand on his arm had stayed him and he has since given up all pretense at not being amused by the situation. Robb is even worse, his mouth twitching with barely concealed laughter and his eyes glinting with mischief as he watches his little sister handling men thrice her age.

The conversation turns towards politics in the south – a poor choice of topic to be discussing with a lady, particularly one so young, and the fact that they do is a testament to how much the North respects the King's sister and her keen mind – and Sansa's political commentary turns even shrewder.

Lady Catelyn narrows her eyes as she turns her blue gaze to her husband and son, who are doing a piss poor job of hiding their amusement, before she settles her gaze on him, and Jon freezes. Granted, he will be the first to admit he wasn't even trying to pretend he wasn't finding the whole thing incredibly funny – he has always derived a great deal of pleasure out of watching Sansa reducing grown men to fumbling green boys – but the look Lady Stark gives him is enough to reduce him to the latter as well.

"Thinking can be… such a dangerous pastime." Sansa's tone is perfectly demure, her blue eyes wide and innocent as the men around her dissolve into rumbles of laughter. Robb doubles over as he nearly spits out the wine he has just taken a gulp of as Ned bows his head and places it against his hands with a mumbled '_for fuck's sake'_. Lady Catelyn snaps her head around to look back at her daughter.

"Robb."

"Right." Robb's hand lands on Jon's shoulder and gives it a squeeze. "Would you mind going to get your wife before she roasts every single man in this hall?" He leans forward to give Jon a wink. "And at least _try_ to get her to be quiet?"

Jon gets up slowly from his seat, his eyes already riveted on Sansa. "I don't mind getting her at all." He leans forward, his hand squeezing Robb's shoulder in return and he lowers his voice somewhat. "But I don't know how quiet she'll be about it." He smiles saucily and Robb gives him a playful shove coupled with a mock glare. But there's nothing mocking about the look Catelyn Stark gives him as he passes behind her and he realizes that maybe he hasn't lowered his voice enough.

He feels more than sees as she turns to Robb with a glare. Robb is quick to stop her though, with a raised hand and a heavy sigh. This is a traitorous situation for him, Jon knows, as he plays the shield between his mother and his chosen brother. "Mother. I know you don't like it and that you would prefer if it wasn't so. But Jon is my brother in everything but blood. He is Hand of the King. And he is _her husband_."

The lords who have gathered around Sansa easily part as they see him approach. She has her back to him though, so it's only the sound of his voice that alerts her to his presence.

"Sansa."

She turns slowly, her eyes appraising him quickly with a contemptuous smirk on her lips before she bows her head in greeting. "My lord husband."

He keeps his eyes locked on hers, doesn't break their connection as he extends a hand to her before addressing the lords. "Forgive me my lords but there is something I must speak with my wife at once." There's a mumbling of assents as she takes his hand and steps closer, tucking her arm in his as befits a high born lady before they take their leave.

They make their way across the great hall without interruption. There are many who nod their heads as they pass and Jon can see more than a few knowing smirks from the lords and commiserating looks from the ladies. He knows exactly what this looks like and no one will dare to intervene between a husband setting his wife straight.

Sansa keeps silent until they reach the doorway and even then her voice is low, ensuring that no one hears her. "Did they send you to get me?"

He nods, an almost imperceptible shake of his head and she purses her lips even as her eyes betray her, shinning like sapphires in the low light. "And are you going to scold me now, as though I were a child?"

He stops abruptly, his arm escaping her grip to snake around her waist and pull her closer. The move is so sudden that it startles her, her hands instinctively flying up to brace against his chest, his own hand moving to her neck to tangle in the fiery tresses of her hair.

They're standing directly under the archway, still in full view of the room. If he looks up, Jon is certain he will see every norther lord watching them, Robb's smirk and Lady Catelyn trying to kill him with looks alone as she asks the seven to help her. But he never does. Instead, he keeps his eyes focused on her, on the way her eyes have grown as dark as the midnight sky, on the way she puffs out a breath as her tongue darts out to moisten suddenly dry lips.

He doesn't bother to lower his voice this time. "What I'm going to do to you is hardly appropriate for children." Her eyes widen as she realizes his intentions but she makes no attempt to stop him and that's all the permission he needs as he lowers his head to take her mouth with his.

He intends for it to be brief, a mere touch of lips before he can get her away somewhere more private to show her exactly what he intends to do, but the sentiment goes right out the window as she pushes herself harder against him, her hands threading across his neck to tangle in his dark curls, deepening the kiss. Her teeth nip his bottom lip and he feels her warm tongue licking her way inside and tangling with his own as her body practically melts against his and he is lost.

She is warm and soft and willing and _gods_, so is he. His hand dips dangerously low on her waist but instead of stopping him, she moans into his mouth, using her grip on his hair to tilt his head so she can deepen the kiss even further. He knows he needs to stop this but that's the last thing he wants right now.

Eventually he pulls back, more from a need to breathe than any actual sense of propriety – or lack thereof as the case may be. He wants to chase her skin down her jaw and neck, wants to pull her lips back against his but settles for leaning his forehead against hers instead, brushing their noses together. Behind them, h can hear the hushed voices and barely concealed laughs that their little display has pulled forward from the crowd but she is smiling, her cheeks flushed pink whether from embarrassment or excitement, he cannot tell.

His hand finally leaves its firm grip on her waist to grab her own before bringing it to his mouth and grazing her knuckles with a kiss. This seems to please their audience immensely, wolf whistles and cat calls resonating across the stone walls, along with some good natured ribbing about the necessity of heirs. Jon steps back, giving Sansa's hand a gentle tug and he sees her looking coyly towards the lords, who are now raising their mugs in bawdy toasts aimed at them, before her face splits into a wide grin.

She steps forward before curtseying graciously to them, ever the proper lady, and the hall echoes with laughter and cheers once again. She's laughing as well when she turns back to him with flushed cheeks before she laces their hands together and they race back to their chambers.

And this time when he kisses her Jon has no intentions to stop.


End file.
